After
by moonshinekinney
Summary: After Justin left for New York Brian is left to deal. Post 5.13   Rated T for minor language and alcohol/drug use


I wondered how it had come to this.

Who did that little fucker think he was? How dare he come marching into my life, twisting and twirling everything upside down, and then just fucking leave?

I was too busy directing all my anger at him and not at me, like I should have. Because, let's face it, I've been a coward, even when I swore to myself I would never act like that again.

I swore that to myself on the night Babylon got bombed. Everything was just so fucked up, and I swore the moment I left the hospital to go back there that I would never let my stupid pride stand in the way of me and Justin again.

And yet here I was, too proud to tell him not to go, to tell him to please stay because otherwise I would just fall apart, fucking falling apart, like I am doing right now. But I didn't. I let him go, because I knew he had to. He had to conquer the world; he had to make it on his own, because otherwise he would have always wondered what if.

But I couldn't help but see the fucking irony in all if this, especially after my fifth glass of Beam. The moment I told him I loved him I knew I couldn't go back. I knew I would do whatever I could in order for him to stay with me, marry me, live with me. And I knew I could do it with no one else. He was my one shot at doing this right, my one shot at a real family, my one shot at….Christ, I sound so pathetic!

And the moment New York came up I knew he would leave, and I knew I wouldn't go back to tricking. I knew he thought I was holding back for him, but the truth was I didn't miss a thing. Alright, I admit, I was kind of overdoing it with the cuddling and the staying in, but hey, I really did just want to see him happy.

When he went through that door, I lost it. I saw him leave again, and I couldn't take it! I screamed and kicked and trashed my place until I was out of energy. I cursed fucking God and the fucking fates and everything for being so totally against us.

When I came to my senses I was lying on my bed, breathing heavily and unable to remember what had just happened. When I looked up and I saw what a mess I made, I said to myself, "Christ, what happened?" And I don't know if I totally lost my mind by that point, but I would swear I heard a voice whisper, "You were doing handstands."

And then I laughed. I laughed loud and hysterically and I couldn't stop! I got up and went for the Beam, and then I stopped. I drank and I smoked and I was rolling around on my floor. I swear that little fucker made me lose my mind! The phone rang about a thousand times, Mikey and Debbie wanting to know if I was alright. I didn't answer it, but the machine was full after an hour.

Yeah, I am alright, alright? I just got to drown the ache, the fucking feeling in my stomach and my head. And I just have to lose the feeling that the loft is too fucking big for one person, and I have to stop seeing him everywhere I look. But, I truly believe that after that I will be alright.

Oh and of course I have to stop hearing his voice in my head. I hear his last words, the words he repeated over and over again. He whispered the words to me while we fucked for the last time and screamed at me when I told him to fucking go already. He breathed them into our last kiss. The words _I'll be back_. They were said to me a lot today, and I still didn't believe them, didn't believe him.

How could he know that? How could he come back to me when the whole world was waiting to be conquered by him? When New York was just waiting to be blown away by him, and yes the pun was intended.

And then I remembered my last words to him, and I know I was being a shit again, pushing him so he would just fucking leave already. Pushing him so he would get hurt and I could again tell myself that I am not worthy of being loved by him, that he is indeed better off without me. The last words I said to him were, " Don't promise something you don't know you can keep. Just go and don't look back."

And he looked at me as if he knew what I was up to, shook his head and shut the door to the loft.

And then I lied there on my white carpet with the bottle of Beam in my hand and a joint in the other and I wondered what I could have said instead. I could have told him that I loved him and that I would wait for him and that we would see each other all the time. But I knew I would be holding him back, knew how it would play out.

We would see each other every weekend at the beginning. Then he would have an exhibit and I would have an important client and we'd skip a weekend. By then he would have made some friends. One of them would have a birthday and he would want to go to that party and I would offer to go with him but he would refuse. He would say it wouldn't make much sense, that I should come the next weekend when we have more time for each other.

But the next weekend would be the weekend Daphne was coming. And the one after that he would have two more paintings to paint and eventually I would stop asking and he would stop mentioning it. And we would call each other and then the calls would get less and less because we have nothing else to talk about because we don't experience anything together anymore and then we would email because that is faster. But by then I'd be a train wreck, because, let's face it, I wouldn't push him, I wouldn't call him or fly over there or anything, because…because…because….somehow I couldn't finish that thought. The Beam and the joint were messing with my head and I didn't even know anymore why I wouldn't call him.

Because I was already pretty pathetic. He hadn't even been gone for twelve hours, and I'd already been pining for him like a little housewife.

My phone rang again and that time I was in the mood to answer it. But, I told myself, whoever was calling was only getting ten minutes and that was it.

I answered the phone without checking the caller ID.

"Kinney?"

"Brian? Thank God! Are you alright? You didn't do something stupid, did you? If you need anything, no matter what, you tell me, yeah? Yeah? Brian?"

I breathed heavily, already regretting picking up the phone.

"I'm fine, Debbie, everything is great, stop worrying."

"Holy Fuck, you sound drunk! Are you drunk? At four pm? Don't you fucking tell me you're alright! Don't think I'm stupid!"

"I am alright because I am drunk, Debbie. It's called pain management."

There was a silence I never thought I could get from Debbie. She sighed and then she said in a really soft voice that made me want to puke and cry at the same time: "He'll be back, you know."

I closed my eyes for a second and heard his voice in my head, _And I plan to stand by it, Brian_.

"Yeah," I said. " I know."

"Listen," she said, "don't be a stranger. And don't be an asshole, okay? We are all here for you."

I hated it and she knew it. I didn't want their pity or their help.

"Yeah," I said. "I know."

I hung up without saying goodbye and returned to my spot on the couch. I lit another cigarette and finished the rest of my Beam.

The loft was silent. And while I was sitting on the couch, staring towards the kitchen and smoking slowly, the voices came back to my head. Or, rather, one voice.

"So thanks for saying it, but no thanks."

"We don't need rings or vows…"

"I'll be back…"

I couldn't believe that I'd grieved so much, grieved for something I never even had, for the opportunity to finally make it right. And I realized that I wanted this badly, worse than I thought, because if I had realized it earlier, like this morning, I might have acted differently.

But he was gone, and I knew that that was the right choice. I knew he had to do that, and I had to stay in the Pitts, but it hurt. Like hell.

I sat there for hours, drinking, smoking, and seriously not picking up the phone. And at some point, I fell asleep.

I dreamt some confusing stuff. I was at the ocean and the waves were coming in and going back. I stood there and watched until I realized I had to catch them, so I ran straight into the ocean. But instead of catching the waves, I started drowning.

I woke up with a scream and it took me a few seconds to realize where I was. Not in the ocean, not drowning, at home on my fucking carpet, the bottle of Beam still in my hand.

I got up and put it on the table, undressed and stumbled over to the bed.

I fell on it and shifted so that I was sprawled all over it. I grabbed a pillow and accidentally breathed in the smell. I held my breath and clenched my teeth. It smelled like him and it hurt like hell. I threw the pillow on the floor and curled up. And at that point, without wanting to, without even really realizing it was happening, I cried.


End file.
